The river
washes it
all away,
if you just
let it be.

In misted
drops of
clear, foam

And makes
me think-

No matter
who you are,
or where
you’ve been,
or how dusted
your shores
may seem:

There is
so gritty
or marred,
that Life
cannot absolve
and bathe

For even as
the most edged
of rocks can
find itself
along streams
dulcet gaze

So can you
find grace.

If you just
let it be…

The river
washes it
all away.